


breath of life

by ashinan



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Episode 46, M/M, Magic, Makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22651258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashinan/pseuds/ashinan
Summary: Caleb takes Fjord up on that underwater 'excursion' the night before they're destined to find the Tide's Breath.
Relationships: Fjord/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 11
Kudos: 178





	breath of life

**Author's Note:**

> so this fic has been percolating in the back of my mind for like. a good long while. the darling Kann is doing a rewatch of the series and got to this episode and it just reignited a need in me to finish it. coupled with [this amazing art](https://twitter.com/stillisee/status/1136481408342532096) Kann did, I just couldn’t not? so here’s my take on the idea of ‘What if Caleb _did_ join Fjord in a late night swim like he originally wanted to?’ and here we are. I recently witnessed the weird and ethereal phenomena of bioluminescent plankton and couldn’t get the image out of my head so they’re tumbling around under the ship because it’s pretty dammit. anyway. enjoy dahlings

Leaning against the railing, Fjord lifts his face to the breeze. The moons bleed out over the night sky, soft blues and purples and pinks wreathed in a trail of starlight. Each twinkle reflects in the cresting waves. Moonlight shifts and shatters as the ship slowly rocks in place, gently drifting this way and that, caught in a current that Fjord corrects every few hours. Here, though. Here, cradled by ocean blue and blanketed by the heavens above, Fjord’s at peace. Stars drizzle over the void, both above and below. Fjord drops his chin against his crossed arms. The water dazzles.

The plan was for them to dive down tomorrow. Fjord sucks in a breath and holds it, allows his shoulders to go loose and weightless. The spell had come to him during another dream, Uk’otoa a pleased boom of thunder and tug of gravity, its prison a depthless void and elusive surface. Fjord had woken with the knowhow, had lifted his palm to his throat until his lungs went sour with air and begged for water. The spell had vanished with a click of his fingers. A boon. A gift.

Tomorrow, then.

Sighing, Fjord tilts his gaze down toward the waves, lids heavy and low. Beneath the starry expanse of the surface, little blips of iridescent blue and turquoise flicker, sputter, and then glow bright. A brilliant swath lights up, curving and dashing with all the finesse of a bait ball, rolling with the waves. Plankton of some sort. Attracted to the boat, likely, hoping for a meal. Fjord traces his fingers in the air like he’d witnessed Avantika do, but no water surges at his command. He’s - relieved.

A door swings open, hinges squealing against crusted salt, and a single thump of footsteps meanders out onto the deck. Gentle murmured greetings, well wishes, the like. Fjord’s lashes sweep low. Listening. Each step light, unobtrusive. Not quick and fast, like Nott. Not measured but purposeful, like Beau.

Caleb.

Fjord breathes out, relaxation licking up his spine. Caleb was easy company. Doesn’t ask questions aside from the simple ones, accent a balm over Fjord’s constant doubt, and understands the beauty of a good silence. Fjord returns his gaze to the water. Recalls the certainty of Caleb’s magic, fire roaring to life between them and Avantika, the flames springing up just inches from Fjord’s nose. Recalls the furious snarl that twisted Caleb’s face as he gutted Avantika’s God-gifted magic, thrust aside her defenses with a vicious glee that blazed bright in electric blue.

A shiver ripples over Fjord’s skin. That possessive spread of Caleb’s hands, ozone and ash and waves of visible heat pouring off his thin form as he created glyphs and wove his arcane words within, lingers whenever Fjord catches himself watching. Small moments, when he’s at the wheel or leaning against the mast; moments where Fjord locks eyes with Caleb and _ignition_. That hiss of steam between water and flame, that wet heat that scorches Fjord’s lungs and urges his heart into a gallop. Breaking the gaze requires an impossible strength on Fjord’s part; Caleb always lingers, attention zeroed in on Fjord for breathless moments afterward. Distracting. Nonsensical. Fjord ignores the heat blazing along his cheeks.

Caleb trails around the edge of the deck for a few more hellos before making his way toward Fjord, steps hesitating. A long moment of still silence where Caleb stands at the base of the stairs and Fjord glances over. Waits. When Caleb finally starts up the steps, Fjord pushes up, palms against the rough wood, claws gleaming with stardust. He smiles softly at Caleb as he crests the stairs.

“You’re up late,” Fjord calls

Caleb blinks. “As are you, Fjord.”

Shrugging, Fjord leans back on his elbows. Caleb shuffles closer, lifting his gaze to view the moons. Shadows cut into the hollows of Caleb’s skin, smudge it like an eraser, and then dust him with starlight. Fjord shifts, embarrassed. Damn poetic, that. A breeze whirls around the main mast, swinging past them in aimless swells. It ruffles the loose spread of Caleb’s shirt, the sleep pressed curl of his hair, the long tails of his coat. The shirt collar shifts, baring the plateau of his clavicle and a thin silver chain, the valley at the base of his throat where his pulse flutters. Fjord swallows. Glances back toward the water.

“It was not your shift,” Caleb says, bracing his palms against the railing, elbows bent awkwardly as he sways with the ship. “In fact, I am certain it was mine.”

“Huh,” Fjord says, twisting back around so he leans his forearms against the railing once more. “Perhaps I thought you could use the sleep. Ever think of that?”

Caleb raises a brow. “If you believe altering Frumpkin’s form was in any way taxing, then I have been taking advantage.”

Grinning, Fjord ducks his head. “So, what you’re telling me is I can’t observe for shit.”

Caleb’s quiet, bumping against Fjord’s shoulder as the ship rocks. “Not at all. You are simply kind.”

Fjord has no response to that, his cheeks flushing with heat, surprise warring with the warm glow in his chest. The ripple of plankton rolls by again, a shimmer of brilliance amongst a depthless void, magic dashed against shadow. Caleb inhales in shock. Fjord ducks his smile against his forearms, gaze cut across to Caleb as he leans forward, dazzled by the beauty. Starlight teases the grey in Caleb’s hair. 

As the plankton swirl beneath the ship in a new feeding frenzy, Caleb drops back to his heels. Mimics Fjord’s stance with forearms on the railing, fingers linked loose and relaxed. The filthy bandages around his arms show the barest gleam of bleaching from the sun. Caleb’s still surprisingly pale for being under the beat of the sun for so long, for having run through a tropical forest, and for participating in navigational training. His nose is peeling, though. Fjord chuckles.

“A question, Fjord,” Caleb says, fingers twiddling. 

“An answer, Caleb,” Fjord teases, biting his tongue when Caleb rolls his eyes, smile fond and indulgent.

A pause while Caleb chews on his words, gaze drawn back to the plankton winking in and out below. “You said you have a way for us to breathe underwater?”

“Yup.” Fjord maintains his gaze on Caleb’s face, on the freckles shattering over his skin in a flurry of dots. “Learned it a few nights ago. Apparently Uk’otoa was feeling particularly helpful.”

Caleb nods. Wets his lips. “Have you tested it?”

The way Caleb won’t meet his gaze, won’t outright ask, trickles uncertainty through Fjord’s sleepy thoughts. He straightens. “Can’t say I have. Only on dry land, really.”

A hum this time, Caleb resolutely staring down into the water. Fjord waits. Possibilities range from Caleb unsure that Fjord can wield the magic, that Uk’otoa is being a shit and will remove the spell while they’re trapped under tonnes of water, or something Fjord isn’t quite picking up on. 

Fjord asks slowly, “Are you worried?” 

Caleb immediately shakes his head, lip caught between his teeth. “ _Nein_ , no, not at all. Your magic always impresses.”

Flushing, Fjord says, “Really, now? I mean, it’s not my magic, is the thing, so it makes sense you’re worried.”

“Fjord,” Caleb calms, waving a hand, “I am not being clear: I simply asked if you had tested the spell and if not, perhaps you would like to test it tonight?”

“ _Oh_. Oh, apologies.” Fjord pushes up, tensing his claws against the railing. “I haven’t tested it in the water; you want to - to join me? Before tomorrow?”

Caleb nods, eyes twinkling, “ _Ja_ , Fjord. I would like to test the spell with you.” 

“It, uh, it requires touch,” Fjord says, tripping over his own tongue.

Caleb quirks a brow, smile threatening to break his poker face. “Most spells of this nature do, _ja_.” 

“Yeah, yeah, big fancy wizard,” Fjord grumbles good naturedly. Caleb laughs, low and rasping, delicate wrinkles at the edges of his eyes crinkling wonderfully. Clearing his throat, Fjord steps closer, and Caleb tips his chin back to maintain the gaze. Their size difference never mattered before, but now Fjord can’t help the thrill that hums in the back of his head, a heady heat suffusing his core at how Caleb’s throat arches, how his spine shifts, how the electric blue of his gaze is broken up by pale lashes. 

Inhaling, Fjord lifts his hand to his own throat. Easier to showcase on himself before moving on to Caleb. The magic bubbles beneath his skin, seeking escape, and Fjord closes his eyes. Focuses. Draws on that whirlpool of freezing water and icy shards that make up his magic until it rises up and through Fjord’s fingers. The air grows sluggish and thick, the magic coiling at the back of Fjord’s tongue. He presses his thumb against the base of his throat, exhaling. The spell holds. Fjord opens his eyes.

Caleb stares up at him, lips parted, flush over the lovely bridge of his nose. A palm rests against his own throat, as if he had been mimicking Fjord’s spell, as if he could learn simply through watching. Fjord clears his throat. Glances away and then back. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, parched from the shifting nature of the spell and for - other reasons. 

Exhaling, Fjord lifts his hand. Pauses before he can make contact with the thin skin of Caleb’s throat. Fuck, would it work better if he just tapped Caleb, maybe took his hand? Uk’otoa hadn’t provided instructions to the spell, so Fjord had done what felt right at the time. 

“Fjord?” Caleb asks, enunciating the ‘j’ like always. Dammit.

“Right, right, sorry,” Fjord says, shaking off the nervous crawl up his spine. 

Cautious, Fjord reaches forward until his fingers touch against the warm breadth of Caleb’s throat. Caleb tips his chin up further, lashes swooping low, electric blue crackling. Gods, give him strength. Fjord gentles his palm against Caleb’s rapid heartbeat, fingers curling against the back of his neck. He rests his thumb along Caleb’s windpipe. The flutter of Caleb’s pulse hides in Fjord’s palm.

Determined, Fjord adjusts his hold until he can easily swipe his thumb down Caleb’s throat. Gods, his hands are huge against Caleb’s skin. “It’s gonna feel weird, won’t lie. Almost like you’re breathing through a heavy cloth. Ready?”

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb rasps, whispers, and Fjord curbs a very inappropriate groan.

The magic bubbles and boils, Fjord siphoning off what he needs to complete the spell. Ice floods through his veins, the familiar bite of brine against the back of his tongue. Caleb gasps, hand jumping up to catch Fjord’s wrist even as his eyes close. The spell swirls against Fjord’s skin before focusing on the gentle petting of Fjord’s thumb against Caleb’s throat, prickling like being submerged in an ice floe. When the spell slips from his thumb into Caleb, Fjord waits. Continues to draw his thumb up and down Caleb’s throat just to be sure.

“Weird, yeah?” Fjord whispers. Caleb’s lashes flutter, his lips part, and he inhales sharply. His brows furrow immediately and he does it again, his shoulders rising before he exhales.

Licking at his lips, Caleb glances up. “I can - the magic is strange. Heavy, like you said. We should be fine?”

“I mean, if Uk’otoa really wanted to get rid of me, here’s how, but considering the state of his other Chosen, might be a bad move.” Fjord shrugs, before loosening his hold on Caleb’s throat. A soft noise leaves Caleb as he releases Fjord, stepping back. His fingers settle against his clavicle before sliding up. He presses over the same place Fjord had gentled his thumb. Fjord clears his throat. “Might wanna dress down if we’re diving in. Don’t want your nice books to get soaked.”

“Of course,” Caleb says, immediately shrugging off his coat. Considering they’re in the middle of nowhere, it’s surprising to see Caleb all harnessed up, books flush against his ribs. Shouldn’t be, really. Curious, Fjord follows the quick flick of Caleb’s fingers over the harness buckle and the entire thing sags, sliding off Caleb’s arms and landing gently atop his coat. He crouches before sitting, yanking off his boots and his threadbare socks, tucking them neatly inside, before he pushes back up.

Without the book harness and bulky coat, Caleb’s - small. The delicate turn of his wrists wrapped in bandages and the gape of his collar, lace too stretched to tie the shirt closed, paints him more vulnerable than Fjord’s truly seen. His hair tie barely holds his hair back, bangs swaying forward over his forehead as Caleb checks himself over for anything else he wishes to leave aboard. His elbows poke at the fabric of his sleeves as he tugs his shirt down. Scratching at his calf with a foot, Caleb frowns down at his arms, before he catches Fjord’s gaze. 

“I am feeling - under dressed,” Caleb says, the barest hint of uncertainty in his voice, and Fjord acquiesces. Divests himself of his boots and his socks, of his Mariner’s armour and the bracers along his wrists. Makes sense, really, considering they don’t want to sink too far. Better to be lighter without the buoyancy of air. Tomorrow calls for protection; tonight is just for them. 

“Better?” Fjord asks, dressed down to his high collared tank and leggings. He hops up on the railing, just as he had a few hours prior. Caleb huffs out a breath, a shadow of a smile quirking his lips, and approaches. The chill lingers along Fjord’s bared arms. The boat rocks to and fro. 

“Much. Now we will both be eaten by sharks,” Caleb says, amusement colouring his tone. Fjord rolls his eyes. Summons the Falchion in a spray of ocean water, spinning it lazily before he vanishes it again. Quirks a brow even as Caleb chuckles, smile wider. 

“Yes, yes, big fancy warlock,” Caleb mimics. Fjord swats at him. Teeters on the edge of the railing before he settles back, claws a bit tighter until he’s stable. Caleb lingers at the railing, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he peers at the dazzling black of the waves. 

Unsure about the water or about the spell, Fjord’s not entirely sure. Either way, he holds out his hand toward Caleb. “Trust me?”

He fights to sound joking, but panic swells in his chest. Depths below, he _knows_ better; stupid of him, to ask such a loaded question, especially of someone as skittish as Caleb. He bites back the immediate backpedal, cautiously meeting Caleb’s eyes. His hand hangs awkward between them, a request and an offering. Wouldn’t hold it against Caleb if he begged off. 

Caleb frowns. Holds Fjord’s gaze for longer than necessary, studying, lips pinched. Quietly, he says, “I trust you, Fjord.” 

Swallowing, Fjord ducks his head. Can’t handle the certainty in Caleb’s gaze, the trust that - well. Caleb catches Fjord’s hand before he can pull away, fingers sliding over his palm, soot against calluses, and Fjord shoves down a shiver. He tugs Caleb up, other hand snapping out when Caleb teeters dangerously, bunching the fabric of his loose shirt, knuckles brushing warm skin. The night air rattles in Fjord’s lungs, mixing unsure with the spell. Gods, he doesn’t know what to do with himself right now. Caleb taps Fjord’s wrist with two fingers, curious.

Fjord clears his throat. “So, uh, the spell’s already in effect. Just gotta inhale when you get underwater, yeah? We don’t have to worry about pressure or all that nonsense.”

“Sounds simple,” Caleb says. His fingers ghost against the inside of Fjord’s wrist again, heat chasing away the cold, and Fjord flushes. _Get it together_. He just has to let go. Release Caleb and fall back into the ocean. Caleb’s shirt is threadbare, delicate. Barely any protection from the elements. Negligible, really.

“Fjord?” Caleb asks. Fjord tears his gaze from where his knuckles just rest against the bare glimpse of Caleb’s skin and withdraws his hands. Smiles, alarmingly fake, and from Caleb’s incredulous eyebrow raise, Fjord’s not fooling anyone. Instead of stumbling through a terrible excuse, Fjord tips backwards over the rail. 

The ocean swallows him whole, a flurry of bubbles and shockingly cold water forcing the last stranglers of air from his lungs. Fjord sinks. Stares up at the smeared canvas of stars, at the watery ripple of a void blooming with colour and light and life. Silence clogs his ears. The easy thrum of ocean depths balloons inside Fjord’s mind, his bones rattling with the pleased hum of Uk’otoa in the back of his thoughts. 

Home. Belonging. _Returned_.

The lack of air tugs his body further down, slow, slow, a syrupy fall. The turbulent disturbance from his entrance calms, overtaken by the waves once more, and ribbons of moonlight lighten the deep black of the water. Fjord lifts a hand. The light sifts through, as fleeting as the current itself. All around him, the aurora shifts from greens to reds to the most delicate of purples, shadows dipping and swaying as if in mimicry. 

Above, a shape falls. Stars part and the ocean dips. Caleb enters the water in a gorgeous swan dive, slipping through the void of rippling light as elegant as any shadow. Fjord twists, following Caleb’s trajectory easily. He stops kicking and arcs toward Fjord, floating slowly back up toward him. Lungs full of air but desperate for water. 

Caleb hovers tiny in the fathomless depths of ocean blue. The silver chain floats loosely around his collarbone, dipping and swaying with the current, the peak of a polished medallion sparkling at the edge of Caleb’s barely tied shirt front. His feet shine pale in the swaying moonlight, the expanse of his throat stretched to meet Fjord’s gaze, hair a wild halo of copper rust, silver threads, and dying embers. 

Fjord kicks down, circles around Caleb in an easy glide, chuckling as Caleb treads to follow him. He pauses until Caleb meets his gaze. Freckles spread over the bridge of Caleb’s nose and dust along his cheekbones, as delicate as grains of sand. His eyes burn that familiar electric blue, fire trapped in seaglass. He floats a bit further up. Fjord reaches, catching Caleb’s fingers. Careful. Slow. Caleb watches him, chest still, breath held. 

Gentle, Fjord tugs Caleb back down until Caleb grips his biceps, holds on to keep himself stationary. Skin on skin. Fjord raises a brow, Caleb furrows his. Purposefully, Fjord opens his mouth and sucks in a mouthful, a lungful, of water. Cool ocean brine mixes with his own magic, settles in his lungs like the first breath of a crisp fall morning. Dewy and sharp and invigorating. Fjord exhales. There’s no visible bubbling of air, just the delicate motion of Caleb’s hair as the current shifts. He nods at Caleb.

Hesitation. Innate fear and panicked survival instincts blare over Caleb’s expression as his lips part. Bubbles filter out before his teeth snap shut and he shakes his head, sudden, frantic. Tightens his hold on Fjord’s arms. 

Fjord lifts a hand, presses all five fingers against Caleb’s chest in a slow spread until his palm cradles the hummingbird beat of Caleb’s heart. The current pushes and pulls, swaying Fjord forward until his elbow bends and his other hand migrates to Caleb’s hip, steadying him close. Caleb shakes his head again. Bubbles filter out of the corner of his lips. 

Baser instincts always overrule at the end of the day. A dreamy tranquility unfurls over Fjord’s thoughts, relaxes him further as he inhales again. Uk’otoa hums an unfamiliar bass of peaceful pleasure along his thoughts. The spell works, the spell holds, and Fjord is relieved. 

Caleb still won’t breathe, won’t trust the magic that soured his lungs to air and remade them for ocean brine. Slow, Fjord trails his hand up Caleb’s chest, claws pricking against his collarbone and the slip of the silver necklace. His palm settles against the pounding beat of Caleb’s pulse, claw tucked just below the soft underside of Caleb’s chin. Caleb’s hair tangles like silk around his fingers.

Just as he had above, Fjord swipes his thumb gentle and leisurely down Caleb’s windpipe. Allows the magic to gather inside of him, tingle beneath his skin like water droplets. Trails a pathway back up as Caleb’s lips part once more. Bubbles escape. Moonlight ripples. But still, Caleb does not breathe. 

Fjord takes a deep breath, water flooding and filling his lungs, true peace softening his thoughts. Caleb watches, seaglass fire and arcane moonlight. Fjord repeats his caress against Caleb’s throat. When Caleb still doesn’t breathe in, when his chest convulses with a need for air, Fjord dips his head close and slots their mouths together.

Caleb startles, hand jumping to Fjord’s against his throat. He doesn’t push away; he trembles, chest convulsing, lips parting. Fjord waits. Strokes his thumb against Caleb’s rabbiting pulse, and gently exhales. There’s a moment where Caleb stiffens and his toes brush hard against Fjord’s shins. Fjord exhales a bit more, and finally, finally, Caleb shudders. His chest heaves. His fingers tighten around Fjord’s wrist and he inhales. 

Immediately, Caleb relaxes, bubbles escaping in great billows toward the surface. His fingers spread wide over Fjord’s chest, warmth seeping through tight fabric. The currents weave the two of them together. Caleb doesn’t pull back, just breathes against Fjord’s lips, the scorching brush of a tongue startling. 

Honey heat slides down Fjord’s spine. He settles a claw against the soft underside of Caleb’s chin and angles his head, shifts their mouths together in a firm slide. There’s little doubt in Fjord’s mind he’s no longer assisting; such a sweet indulgence granted to him and he refuses to brush it off. Caleb’s fingers tighten in the fabric of Fjord’s shirt, his lips parting on a shuddery sigh, and his tongue brushes over Fjord’s bottom lip again. A request. 

Groaning low, Fjord shifts his hold on Caleb’s throat to his hair, spreads his other hand over Caleb’s lower back, beneath the lax sway of his shirt. _Ignition_. Caleb’s burning beneath his touch. Caleb whimpers, hands jumping up to frame Fjord’s face as his feet kick just a little, pushing himself up to better meet Fjord. Fjord drags his claws, delicate, light, over the breadth of Caleb’s lower back, rumbling as Caleb arches up toward him, now pressed together from lip to groin. Fjord hums. Caleb pulls back to breathe in sharp, eyes alight with awe. Does it again. Ducks his head back in for another kiss, wrapping one arm tight around Fjord’s neck while brushing his thumb over and over the skin beneath Fjord’s eye.

It’s agony pulling back. Fjord nips at Caleb’s bottom lip, groans when Caleb makes a wanting noise and drags him back in. Loses himself in the sheer heat of Caleb’s mouth, of how his fingers bite into Fjord’s shoulder, how he pushes and asks and _demands_. The rumble in his chest grows, almost a low growl as Fjord fists a hand in Caleb’s hair and pulls.

Immediately, Caleb goes pliant. His throat arches back to follow the pull, lips parting, eyes wide and dark as he shudders. Pleased, Fjord dips forward and ghosts his lips over Caleb’s jaw, down over that fluttering pulse. Caleb’s startled moan vibrates through the water like thunder. Fjord hums, content. Kisses open mouthed and hot down the expanse of Caleb’s throat until he can move aside that loose collar and get his teeth against Caleb’s sharp collarbone. Both of Caleb’s hands jump to Fjord’s hair, tugging, pulling, holding. 

All around them, the light from above filters and glows through the never ending dark below. Moonlight sharpens the shadows in Caleb’s hair, beneath the flow of his shirt where Fjord’s hand dwarfs his skin. Fjord finds his way back up to Caleb’s mouth, indulging in another deep, unhurried kiss. Caleb squirms until Fjord pulls back. Presses one last chaste kiss against the corner of Caleb’s mouth.

“Fjord,” Caleb says. The words muffle, rumble, and Fjord combs his fingers through Caleb’s hair, russet over shadow. Caleb exhales, nudging their noses together before he drops his forehead against Fjord’s. Hooded gaze and electric blue lost to a needy void. They sway together in the current. Tranquillity as bequeathed by a demi-god. 

Fjord closes his eyes. Rolls their foreheads together before he pulls Caleb closer, tighter, and dips in for another kiss. Together they float in endless blue, tangled up and held. Darkness below and midnight sky above. Stars dip and sway through the waves like fractured fireflies. Fjord kisses Caleb hot and deep and lingering, basks in the sweet surrender Caleb gifts him with, until they’re sinking slow but sure further into the depths. 

After all, the spell lasts eight hours. 

**Author's Note:**

> originally, this became nsfw very fast, but I managed to reign it in. come follow me on [my fandom twitter](https://twitter.com/ashinanfandom?s=09) (where I am crying all the time about critrole and widofjord lbr)


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